Chapter 3 - Twenty Thousand Dollars for a Boy’s Life
The smell of vanilla and cinnamon hung between us in the cold pantry.
I set down the tray of glass jars.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Miss Sterling," I said.
My heart thumped against my ribs, but my hands remained steady.
"Don't play the saint with me," Evelyn spat.
She took two deliberate steps toward me.
Her eyes scanned my faded linen uniform with pure disgust.
"A pathetic little cook playing night nurse," she sneered.
"Did you think that little routine would make you mistress of this house?"
"I brought a man a blanket because he was cold," I said.
"That was my only job."
"Your job is to stay invisible."
She opened her leather purse.
She pulled out a thick envelope wrapped in brown paper.
She dropped it onto the stainless steel prep table.
It hit the metal with a heavy thud.
"Twenty thousand dollars," she said.
"Cash. Untraceable."
I stared at the paper envelope.
Twenty thousand dollars was more than my annual savings.
It was four years of Caleb's specialized inhalers.
It was new shoes that didn't let the winter sleet leak into his socks.
"What is this for?" I asked.
"Your immediate resignation," she said crisply.
"You pack your bags today. You take the five o'clock train to Philadelphia. You
never show your face in Maryland again."
I looked up into her cold eyes.
"I can't leave Baltimore."
"You don't have a choice."
"My brother is nine years old," I told her, my voice rising.
"His pulmonary specialist is at Johns Hopkins. His school is two blocks from our
flat. His whole life is here."
Evelyn tilted her head, enjoying my panic.
"Caleb Hayes. Third grade at St. Jude's. Takes albuterol twice daily."
She smiled, cold and dead.
"I know everything about your pathetic little life, Nora."
The blood drained from my face.
She had checked him.
She had sent people to watch his school.
"Take the envelope," she hissed.
"Take your sick brother and run. Men like Roman don't look at girls like you.
When powerful men touch broken things, they only break them worse."
I looked at the envelope.
Then I looked back at her.
My spine stiffened.
I had cleaned floors since I was sixteen.
I had skipped dinners so Caleb could eat fruit.
I had swallowed pride every single day of my life.
But I would not be bought like livestock.
"If Roman Calder truly doesn't care about me," I said, my voice steady,
"Then why are you so terrified of a cup of tea?"
The slap came fast.
Her hand struck my left cheek with the force of an iron rod.
My head whipped sideways.
The skin burned instantly.
Evelyn's breath came fast, her aristocratic poise completely shattered.
"You will regret this day," she whispered through clenched teeth.
"I will take everything from you."
She turned on her heel and slammed the pantry door behind her.
I stood alone in the dim light, my hand pressed against my burning face.
An hour later, I carried the envelope to Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper.
"Miss Sterling left this behind," I said quietly.
I didn't keep a single dollar.
At noon, the kitchen swing doors burst open.
Roman Calder strode inside.
His jaw was set in rigid stone.
His coat was gone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
The staff scattered like mice, leaving us completely alone among the copper
pots.
He stopped in front of me.
May you like
His eyes immediately dropped to the red welt blooming on my cheek.
"Who did that?" he demanded.
